


David Jacobs: Actual Walking Disaster

by Luminous_Bluebell



Series: Actual Walking Disaster Children [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Gen, Modern AU, really it's only David/Jack if u squint and tilt your head sideways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:22:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3645090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luminous_Bluebell/pseuds/Luminous_Bluebell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And now he’s hungry, because he woke up late and missed breakfast and didn’t get a break at work. It’s not like he could eat there anyway, because it would figure that the one restaurant that would hire him would be the one restaurant that only serves pork in absolutely everything. He’s getting really irritated. He’s pissed at the universe, and he just wants one thing to go right today.</p>
            </blockquote>





	David Jacobs: Actual Walking Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> based on a prompt from [this post](http://theappleppielifestyle.tumblr.com/post/113482576611/hot-mess-otp-aus-pt-3-i-called-the-wrong-number)
> 
> 'you found me in a mall crying over a bowl of noodles i dropped and i s2g im not usually like this im just having a really weird week' au
> 
> cross-posted on my [tumblr](http://transboyjackkelly.tumblr.com/post/115013969530/whoops-i-wrote-a-thing-based-on-a-prompt-from-this)

Les’ birthday was coming up.

Les’ birthday was coming up and Dad had lost his job and was now on disability and Mom was scraping by trying to make rent and Sarah should really focus on school and so here was David, with the little he made in tips that morning after getting shouted at by five different tables, trying to find the video game Les wanted only to see the last copy get swiped off the shelf by someone who made  _direct eye contact_  with him as she took it. Well fuck you too, buddy.

And now he’s hungry, because he woke up late and missed breakfast and didn’t get a break at work. It’s not like he could eat there anyway, because it would figure that the  _one restaurant_  that would hire him would be the  _one restaurant that only serves pork in absolutely everything_. He’s getting really irritated. He’s pissed at the universe, and he just wants one thing to go right today.

He walks around to blow off some steam, and ends up at the food court. Just to rub salt in his many, tiny wounds, he looks around at the overpriced options he’s got.

There’s a noodle stand. It’s cheap. And it’s vegetarian. He tries not to run for it like a kid in a candy store, because he is an adult, damn it. He a mature and respectable eighteen years old and he won’t run… he power walks it.

He’s got just the right amount of change to get the cheapest bowl and still have enough for a game for Les and he might even be able to get himself a soda or something and he would swear to anyone that he could hear the Hallelujah chorus somewhere. Wasting no time, he grabs the bowl and the soda and makes a beeline for a table … and he fumbles the bowl setting it down. There go the noodles… onto the floor.

Great.

Fucking perfect.

Before he can realize, he lets out a small whimper. But those are definitely not tears on his face. Nope. He’s gotta sneeze, is what that is. Honest. A really, really big sneeze.

\----

Working at a food court in a mall, Jack Kelly would swear that he’d seen just about everything. And, well, someone had just taken the entire tray of samples from him and gave it back with a scale-model of the Empire State Building made out of the leftover toothpicks, so anyone would be inclined to believe him. He’d cleaned up after kids who got sick on the floor, crossfaded people in line who took five  _million_  years to order and then steal drinks, solicitors of all kinds, food-fight breakups, basically all kinds of shit. So he thought he’d seen just about everything. Well…

Jack is really, really not sure what to make of this. Right in the middle of the food court is a guy just standing over a mound of soggy noodles, shoulders shaking like he’s trying not to cry. He’s not exactly making a scene, so it’s nothing Jack actually has to do anything about, but he’s more than a little curious and can more than sympathize with the thought of seeing about half an hour’s worth in wages lying on the ground in front of you in a sad looking heap. He grabs a broom and a dustpan with the excuse that he’s gonna actually clean up the apparent source of this guy’s distress, do his good deed for the day and all that.

Well, that was  _going_  to be his good deed or whatever, until he saw the guy. This kid is literally on the verge of tears, absolutely about to fucking shatter. Because of a bowl of noodles. He’s gonna be casual about this.

“Need help cleaning that up?” Cool. Casual. No need to make it more of a scene than it’s probably gonna be. No response though. The guy is making quiet whimpering noises like he might actually start sobbing. Jack  _really_  hates it when people cry. He sighs, keeps a cool head. “Alright. I’m gonna clean this up and then we’re gonna see what we can do about,” he gestures vaguely down to the floor and back up to the guy, “this.”

The guy does some kind of flailing move that  _might_  be trying to tell Jack not to bother, but as far as Jack knows he’s not a mind reader so it kinda falls flat. So while this guy is trying not to have an emotional breakdown, Jack cleans up the mess and sneaks back behind the counter. It doesn’t take too much convincing to get Mush to part with the five dollars in the tip jar so he can get the guy another bowl.

\----

Well ain’t that just his luck. He shouldn’t have tempted fate by thinking he could get  _one good thing_  out of today without it blowing up in his face. He doesn’t give himself over to dramatics often, but damn if it isn’t officially the worst day ever. And of course someone had to notice and oh hell everyone could see him getting snot and tears everywhere and they’re all pointing and laughing and telling their kids not to look at the  _overgrown child throwing a tantrum in the middle of the food court over a fucking bowl of noodles._  Mature and respectable eighteen year old, indeed. But then the guy who cleaned up the spill comes back and the floor still hasn’t swallowed David whole. That would be nice he’d like that to happen preferably  _now_. Except it doesn’t and the guy comes back  _with a bowl of noodles and he might just start crying again_  and sets it down on the table without spilling it all over the place like some kind of klutz. Once his brain and his mouth start cooperating again, he realizes that he’s a little insulted. “Thank you” would’ve been the proper thing to say but instead he says, “I don’t need your charity.” Nice one, David.

\----

Jack jerks back a little bit. “Nah. What you  _need_  is a bowl of noodles. And there’s the noodles, now eat ‘em.” Really. Excuse him for tryna be nice to a guy in distress. See if he ever helped anyone again. He gives a look as good as he’s getting from the guy who’s trying not to pull the noodles toward him. And really, what is  _with that_?

“I coulda got it myself.” And really. This guy was  _sulking_  and it was ridiculous.

“Well, if you’re so sure, you can pay it back later. For now, you can eat the damn noodles. I gotta get back to work, if you don’t mind.” There’s always something satisfying about having the last word in a not-argument. And maybe he double-checks to see if the guy was actually eating. Maybe he feels a bit pleased when he sees the kid actually properly eating. But so what if he is?

* * *

David feels like an absolute tool. He would never show his face in the food court – or the mall – ever again except… except that he has to pay the guy back for the bowl.

But he was only vaguely aware of the guy and didn’t even really know where he worked or when and it was a total crapshoot but here he is clutching five dollars and maybe kind of cursing himself that he wasn’t paying attention the last time so this wouldn’t actually have to happen. Thankfully his luck is a little better than the last time he braved the hell that is the shopping mall, because there’s a guy behind a counter who recognizes him and waves him over. He shuffles over, trying not to feel too embarrassed. The curly-haired kid calls to some guy who, David assumes, is in the kitchen. “Hey, Jack! Noodle Guy’s here.” Well, so much for trying not to feel embarrassed. At least he knows the guy’s name now.

Jack pokes his head out from behind the door and actually starts beaming. “Well I’ll be damned, it is.” David is trying  _really_  hard not to blush right now. Really he’s trying. Putting on his Serious Business Face, he tries to hand Jack the five dollars, but the look Jack gives him says he’s having none of it. “And what’s this?”

“Well, you said I could pay it back later, and here it is.”

And Jack, he actually had the gall to laugh. “Well yeah, but I wasn’t bein serious or nothin. That was like… an investment.”

It was David’s turn to look confused. “An investment?”

“Yeah, sure. I help you out, you bring people to my business tellin’ em about the handsome angelic cashier, I get more tips. Investment.” And ok. That was admittedly hilarious. “So anyway, you gonna get something or what?”

That gets David looking at something that isn’t the “handsome, angelic cashier” and he clears his throat, “uh, sure. Yeah… strawberry lemonade?”

“And while it’s fun callin you Noodle Boy, I’m gonna need your name. For the receipt.”

“Right, it’s, uh. David. David Jacobs. Yeah.”

“Well, David Jacobs, that’s gonna be $3.50.” He stopped being shocked at mall prices being tantamount to highway robbery and handed over four dollars, dropping the remaining fifty cents AND the five dollars that he owed him into the Styrofoam cup taped to the top of the register.

“Thanks, Jack.”

“Don’t mention it. What are friends for, right?”


End file.
